


Kneel For Me

by thelordofstarsanddreams



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Anger, Angry Sex, Angst, Denial of Feelings, Dom/sub, F/M, Female Dominance, Fighting, Floor Sex, Hate Sex, Kneeling, Light Dom/sub, Longing, Love/Hate, NSFW, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Power Play, Rough Sex, Sex, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Touch Denial, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vaginal Sex, Wall Sex, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 21:08:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10975359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelordofstarsanddreams/pseuds/thelordofstarsanddreams
Summary: It wasn't the first time Cassian had ended up here.From the moment they had met there had been something. A spark that had ignited when the eldest Archeron sister had looked at him with such contempt and disgust. Nesta. Her name had sang to him in a way he'd never felt before. And when he'd tasted her skin just that once, even if it had earned him a kick to the balls it had been worth it.They hadn't fucked until after she'd become Fae.





	Kneel For Me

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea for Nessian smut in my head for a while because I'm convinced they were fucking long before that kiss during the battle against Hybern. Anyway, this ended up with d/s tones because how could these two not be a complete power play and Illyrian males just radiate a lot of subness to me. Enjoy!

In all Cassian's centuries of living, he had witnessed many things which scared him. From the horrors of war to the beast that lurked in the library in the bowels of Velaris, he was not new to feeling that familiar spike of fear crawl up his spine and settle in his chest. 

Which was exactly what he felt as he stood in the living room of the town house, watching as Nesta Archeron squared off against the High Lady of the Night Court. 

The sisters fighting wasn't anything new. Anyone who had been in a room with them for longer than five minutes could attest to that, but this was the scariest he had seen the pair when facing off.

Tensions had been understandably high, even with Feyre back from the Spring Court and both Elain and Nesta having moved down from the House of Wind. While some things had been fixed, others remained fractured, none more so than the relationship between the eldest and youngest Archeron women. Feyre's title and crown not enough to bring Nesta into line when she didn't see this world or Court as the place she belonged.

Cassian didn't even know what had triggered it. He'd walk in to find the two women screaming at one another. Rhysand was holding a meeting in the House of Wind and the General had been back and forth to the Illyrian camp, gathering numbers and whatever statistics he could on the shape of their forces. All he'd wanted was to come back for something to eat and a moment to sit down, but the women in his life seemed to have other plans. 

Nesta looked murderous. Albeit a frequent favourite expression of hers, but normally directed at him and not Feyre.

“When are you going to accept that I didn't put you in that coffin? This grudge is getting old, Nesta.”

“You might as well have, everything you did is what brought us here, what made me like this and turned Elain into this...this nothing!” 

Cassian could have swore the High Lady flinched, just for a moment, that old guilt in her eyes as Nesta picked at the same wound.

“I wouldn't have had to do anything if I wasn't trying to keep you both alive. If we had been relying on you we would have died years ago, you selfish-”

Nesta wasn't the only one who could pick at old wounds and Cassian had often wondered if the woman felt the same guilt. Felt remorse for sending her younger sister into those words for years. If she did, she didn't show it. Nor did she apologise for it. Yet something in those words spat at her was enough to bait a feral snarl from Nesta.

“Ladies, I think we should call a time out,” Cassian speaking was the only thing which alerted the pair to his presence and while Feyre looked and acknowledged him, Nesta kept that piercing gaze trained on her sister. 

“This is none of your concern,” Nesta spat, such contempt and rage in her voice, and Cassian felt it as he looked at her, that hum of power which crawled under her skin like a snake, waiting to strike. He needed to train her or someone did, because on day she would explode and when she did, he was certain they'd all be devastated by her chaos.

“This is very much my concern,” The General retorted coolly, arms folding across his chest, red siphons glinting at his hand, gaze trained on the Archeron sister.

“I'm done with this conversation,” Feyre murmured dismissively, knowing that she wouldn't push Nesta, because even if that woman attacked, his High Lady would not hurt her sister. Would prevent any serious harm but would not use the skills he'd taught her to defend herself, and with Nesta untrained, Feyre could easily put her down. 

The High Lady swept her delicate braid over her shoulder, a coldness around her as she swept passed him, giving a small dip of her head in thanks. There were many reasons he never wanted to get on Feyre's bad side, and not even considering Rhysand, the powers which swirled within her was one of them.

Nesta however, was not done, and Cassian only just had a moment to step forward and catch her by the waist before she could launch herself after Feyre. He tramped on the edges of her green gown, the woman hissing like a wild cat, all nails and teeth. “Nesta, stop,” He growled in her ear, and it seemed she appreciate that even less. 

“Let me go. Do not touch me,” Nesta snarled, ripping herself from his hold, those piercing eyes dancing with fire and fury.

“You need to calm down, and I'm not about to let you go after my High Lady in our home.”

The woman huffed a breath, shoving past him, only she didn't go towards the gardens where Feyre had retreated, but instead to the stairs, Cassian catching her hand before she could go any further.

“Let go of me,” She hissed through gritted teeth and he practically felt a wave of that devastating fury echo from her. Most men would flee from the mere whisper of that power, but Cassian wouldn't turn from her, wouldn't fear her.

“You need to calm down,” The General repeated, and there was something in the way he said it, and the look he gave her that had a vague response of familiarity flickering in Nesta's burning eyes. 

The woman ripped her hand from Cassian's hold, pausing on the step before turning her back to him. “Upstairs,” Was all she said, before stalking away towards her room, the sound of her door remaining open the only invitation that he needed. 

\--------------------------------------------------------

It wasn't the first time Cassian had ended up here. 

From the moment they had met there had been something. A spark that had ignited when the eldest Archeron sister had looked at him with such contempt and disgust. Nesta. Her name had sang to him in a way he'd never felt before. And when he'd tasted her skin just that once, even if it had earned him a kick to the balls it had been worth it. 

They hadn't fucked until after she'd become Fae. 

The second week into her arriving at the Night Court while he had still been healing, they'd ended up in another argument. Cassian frustrated at his inability to recover faster, and Nesta bursting with new feeling, power and so much anger. 

It had built and built and built, the air crackling with tension, with a power that he had tasted on his tongue. Before he could comprehend what happened next, it was her on his tongue. In that library in the House of Wind, she shoved him back onto one of the arm chairs and she had rode him, her skirts hitched over her hips, front of her dress torn to grant him access to her breasts. It had been rough and violent and when Nesta had came around him, her name had spilled from his lips, spoken like a plea, desperate, a request. 

Not a word had been spoken when they were done as she pulled herself away from him and stalked into her room.

It became a silent but familiar routine for the pair. Nesta wouldn't train, but she would fuck Cassian, taking the tension from her bodies in other ways. Never sweet, never tender. She ordered him around, and he was happy to oblige, he too glad for the pleasure, for the release, even savouring the way she commanded him.

It had been three weeks since they'd last been together, and it felt longer. Nesta was already stripped to her underclothes by the time he'd arrived into her room, shutting the door and bolting the lock. The thin white slip only just covered her delicate body and the lacy under things beneath.

“Get out of those damned leathers.” No patience. No softness. “Keep the siphons on.”

It wasn't the first time she made that request.

Cassian intentionally dragged out the process as he unattached his the links of his armour, stripped off his leathers, his boots and pants, leaving on the solid fingerless gloves which kept the siphons attached to his hands. He was testing her patience. The flickering muscle in her jaw made that apparent. When he finished, he was naked, sans the siphons which glowed at his hands and the wings on his back which he tucked in tight. Nesta was perched on the bottom of her bed, long legs crossed, a brief flutter of appreciation on her expression before nothing.

“Kneel.”

A familiar command, Cassian smirked as he obeyed, dropping to his knees in the centre of the room, clasping his hands behind his back. Normally, he'd push her. Tease her. Fight her instructions until she put him on the ground, but he'd seen the flames in her eyes, scented the twinges of that power, and right now, he'd give her the control, give her what she needed.

And Nesta was not ashamed of showing him exactly what she desired.

Uncrossing her legs, she gave a gesture with her hand, beckoning him to her, no words needed. And Cassian obliged. On hands and knees, the Illyrian crawled to her, his lips finding her ankle, along her calf, over her knee, easing between her legs. Nesta didn't stop him, slumping back slightly onto the bed as he parted her knees further. Thin underpants kept her from him, but the smell of her was intoxicating, and even bowed before this woman, he felt a small victory when she moaned as he nuzzled and lapped at her through the fabric of her underclothes.

Such filthy words Nesta Archeron knew.

The Illyrian did not hesitate as he tugged the underwear down with his teeth, and as he rose, she had removed her slip, her full breasts exposed, tempting, but he hadn't received permission to stray from his task at hand. With a smirk that had the heat coiling in the pit of her stomach, Cassian hooked Nesta's legs over his shoulders, careful not to catch his wings before he dropped his head to taste her. She was slick and hot against his tongue, and Nesta groaned, fingers sliding into his hair, grabbing a fistful and tugging roughly.

The woman had quickly learned that Cassian enjoyed having his hair pulled and she made good on that knowledge often, particularly when his head was buried between his legs. It was a silent demand, hard tugs for more, harder, deeper and he always complied.

His mouth latched onto her clit, two fingers pressing into her, Nesta's heels digging into his shoulders as she rocked her hips against his mouth, his fingers. 

She came hard and fast, nails dragging against his scalp, yet he didn't stop until she was shoving her foot into his shoulder and pushing him away.

They weren't done.

Far from it.

Cassian was on his back on the floor before he had time to register it, Nesta only just allowing him the chance to shake out his wings for some sibilance of comfort before she was on him, straddling his hips, taking his hard cock in her hand and guiding him into her. Her moan was almost drowned out by his at the feel of her tight and wet around him.

“Nes...” He gritted out, siphoned hands moving to grip her hips, only to have her grab his hands, pinning them by his sides.

“Nesta. And I'll say when you can touch me.”

The demand was clear and Cassian's hands curled into fists as he immediately wanted to break her order, eager to touch her skin, her ass, her breasts. Wanting to kiss her. They rarely kissed during these moments and he wasn't sure if that was part of her control or because it might invite something other than pleasure to the table.

Not that he wasn't already past that.

Her hands settled on his chest as she began to move herself, rolling her hips slowly, head tilting back and face etched in pleasure as she found her rhythm. Cassian would have happily laid their watching her all day. Every inch of her was beautiful. Deadly.

Nesta drew it out, long and slow, moans and whimpers building in her throat until she finally growled, “Touch me,” And by the Mother her did. 

In a heartbeat, with all the stamina and strength in his body, Cassian clasped his arms around her, sweeping onto his feet with the help of his wings, still buried inside her, he staggered to the nearest wall, slamming the woman against it.

The woman snarled, tucking her face against his neck, biting down on his skin as her hand twisted in his hair. Cassian's pace was rough and relentless, a siphoned hand cupping her ass, the other groping her breast, her hips, briefly disappearing between them to graze over her clit in a fleeting stroke, feeling her shudder before snapping his touch away, leaving her teetering on that peak. 

Yet Nesta was not without tricks of her own. 

She reached out a hand, tracing a long the ridge of his wing that connected just along his shoulder, across the taunt skin. He'd mentioned it was sensitive once. Now a roar rattled from him at the fleeting touch and Nesta was sure it would have rattled through the entire town house had she not pressed her lips to his, swallowing the sound with a kiss.

Cassian tasted like her.

A breath later and she was coming around him, the buck of her hips coaxing him to his own climax, until they were nothing more than a panting mess, pressed against the wall.

The Illyrian had his head tucked against Nesta's shoulder, his wings encasing them slightly as they both panted, desperately seeking out the breath they'd lost. He didn't want to move, didn't want this to end because he knew what came next. 

Siphons glowed against the pale expanse of her sides as he trailed his fingers along her skin, nuzzling her jaw when Nesta shifted slightly. 

“Get off me,” She grunted, and with a sigh, he obliged, sliding from her, though he didn't miss her little shudder, almost like she protested the loss of him. Carefully, Cassian set her down and without looking at him, Nesta slipped past him, stalking across the room and into her private bathing chambers.

The door slammed shut and she didn't come back out.

She never did.

Each time, Cassian lingered a little longer. Took his time to put his clothes back on, constantly shooting glances towards the bathing chamber door. There was never an invitation to stay. He had never shared her bed for an entire night and maybe he never would. But this was better than nothing. If all he could have was her in this physical sense, then he'd take it. Even if his chest ached every time she sent him away with barely a second glance.

Ten minutes later, he was fully dressed as he closed her bedroom door behind him, trudging down the steps back into the front hall.

Feyre was lingering by the archway that led into the living room. “Leaving so soon, Cass?” She arched an eyebrow, eyes dancing with suspicion and questions he wasn't prepared to answer.

“Duty calls, Lady,” He offered her a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes as he bowed his head, not lingering for a moment more as he made his way out of the front door, snapping it shut behind him, taking to the skies a heartbeat later.

Feyre didn't say anything to Nesta who appeared on the top of the stairs, wrapped in a heavy robe, but some of the flame had dimmed in the burning light of her eyes and whatever fury had echoed through her was nothing more than a dull throb.


End file.
